The Ant, the Wasp and the Butterfly

The Ant, the Wasp and the Butterfly



It’s a balmy morning in midsummer, when Antonio the Ant gets a call from his snobby neighbour Pappillia – the French born obnoxious butterfly draped with shining robes of incandesant colours like azure and Miele outlined in midnight black.  She’s so pomp its funny when she calls, she can talk about trashy magazines and who’s who in Hollywood for well, too long.  That chick’s got the gift of the gab....  grace and a certain amount of regal poise too.  She is the ancestor of mama Butterfly of Wessex.  I know you’ve heard the story a few times too haven’t you!

So Antonio is sitting there barely taking notice of Pappillia’s ongoing banter when he catches a glimpse of Wendy the wasp hovering in the front garden probably looking for someone to have another stab at.  She really is a nasty thing, getting her arse in the way where ever she goes, when his antlers spike up at the chance to be competitive – he loves a good challenge.

“It’s for charity of course!” says Pappillia

“So when is it?” asked Antonio

“Ohh this weekend I suppose, but I’m not sure what I will put on my wings, I’m strapped for a new dress to let me shine like the diamond I am.” Responded Pappillia. 

About 2 minutes of boring Hollywood red carpet critiquing went by when Antonio just blurted out “Yes” with a bored, “can I go now” kind of tone.  He wasn’t one for long winded chats about passing historical events centred on self indulgence and who’s hot and who’s not.  He’s a manly ant you see, doesn’t mind doing the dirty work every now and then.

“Wendy’s here, she’ll be up for it if you want me to ask for you?” said Antonio.

“I’ve already arranged it with her, she’ll be wearing something adapted from last season’s summer sports collection from “Windolene of Paris”...... of course I’ll have to trim a lot of it away and extend the body, Wendy’s a bit long in the waste if you get what I mean, much like Lindsay Lohan on page 3 of Hollywood Weekly.....  Take a look, she’s really stacked on the pounds this winter past?” said Pappillia.

“I’ve already seen it, it’s so yesterday Pap’s” said Antonio in a fabulous yet clearly over stated sarcastic manner.

“hhmmmmm, well ok then.” Said Pappillia before she sighed like she always does when she get’s wind of commoners acting rudely.

Antonio canters to the front door and opens it only to see Wendy’s big fat head and alien like oversized eyes right in his face.  Yep, it’s Wendy alright.  She pushes past Antonio and wasps her way to the kitchen and starts drinking from the sink like an athlete who’s just completed a marathon.

“Have you heard my latest idea?” asked Wendy.

“no, tell me all about it honey suckle precious” said Antonio

“Well, we’re having a fundraising run for disadvantaged nuns in Peru.” Said Wendy

“Really?” said Antonio.

“Yes,” Said Wendy before she reminded Antonio about her unfortunate allergy to pollen.

They sat for a while and discussed how Wendy will take the trip to St Manuel’s convent for starving lesbian nuns in Peru personally as she really had a something in common with them – Wendy is of course a lesbian Wasp with an allergy to Pollen – the first of her kind and a soldier with the knowledge.

A few days passed and Race Day had arrived.  Pappillia was over dressed as usual with streams of balancing threads to assist her to balance out while she pushes herself to the max and does another elbow strain like the last fundraiser.  It was just a game of quiditch which was more like insecticide then a social gathering.  Such a sad day in Garden Land.

Wendy was there stitched into a lycra number that left nothing to the imagination – such a lovely face, but a bit tubby on the edges really. 

“I love what you’ve done with that old tent I had lying around Pap’s.” Antonio said to Pappillia.

“it’s nothing really, let’s not speak of it again darlink’s, you know how touchy Wendy can get with things like this, besides, I’m not chopping into my fine rags for a Wasp.  What do you take me for, a communist Lady Beetle with money to throw around? Retorted Pappillia with a sense of concern.

Wendy had Wasped over and cackled like the evil witch from the west complete with a smokers cough churning at the end of the phrasing.  Pappillia and Antonio just looked at each other knowing she must have been out last night on the smokes again at some helpless defenceless insects’ house.  Pappillia whispered “Hermetia” to Antonio and he nodded.  Hermetia is the local earthworm who is as blind as a bat and can’t hear anything.  Bit like the house dweller lady that just sits there on the back veranda day after day looking into space. 

“Should make it a good race with this coughing thing going on.” Said Antonio

“I suppose, I just hope it doesn’t rain, I spent hours on my gown, it’s Prada darlinks just like the one Ann Hathaway sports in Devil Wears Prada.  It arrived yesterday from EBay.” Replied Pappillia.

Antonio smelt the cheap tones of a bargain hunter on her words and remained expressionless.

The 3 of them were town charmers, all in their own right for different reasons too.  Irritating, fabulous and kind.....  they had only just lined up in the VIP fundraiser when the speaker bellowed loud enough to cause accidents in a bugs pant. Antonio heard the dulcet tones of an educated person and thought to himself, what an interesting concept.

“Take your marks”

“Get set”

“GO!”

And the race had begun.  Wendy wasped into the distance without any consideration of pacing the race.  Pappillia was almost blown off course with the slip stream she left and let out a comical “ahh” as she took off.  Antonio didn’t care much for the other 2 at this point and got himself into the zone of: it’s going to rain, run for your life.

Wendy lapped the other 2 at least 50 times during the race before she stopped to chat with Antonio and warned him of Jimbo the Redback further up the track.  Antonio didn’t care really, spiders didn’t bother him and he was already mates with Jimbo.  Jimbo eventually walked alongside Antonio and asked if he wanted the other 2 disabled during the race.  Antonio explained, “they’ll have a dig at each other eventually, I’ll just play it like that turtle in the story Queenie told me as a kid.”

So Antonio scuttled off with his little legs blurred to the world around him.  He reconsidered Jimbo’s offer and came to the same conclusion – NO!

Meanwhile Wendy had made a quick u-turn in pursuit for glamazon Pappalia.  She was balanced on the currents and maelstroms that threw her off course every 5-10 seconds.  She was used to this undulation but her streams of glowing threads attached to her stunning and fabulous outfit for the race balanced her and let her glide easier than usual.  Wendy badgered Pappillia for a while before growing tired of her constant banter, taking the hint she wasn’t dressed like Madam Butterfly all mighty. 

Wendy did take the opportunity to flex her RAAF training and performed a mid air triple tuck commander tumble and clipping the newly recovered elbow of Pappillia.  This was the Wendy style she was known for in her seasoned air drill training.  They later came to know it as the Wendy Whopper.  It was spectacular to see, like a gold medal dive off the 10 meter platform during an Olympics final.

Pappillia was all tizzed and felt she needed to stop on the nearest leaf for a makeup check and a quick chiropractic adjustment from the resident Grasshopper – Eduardo.  He was in import from a garden far away – flew in on the last southerly to be completely honest.  He was a master of skeletons and held a comparable poise to Pappillia herself.  She felt comfortable in his company and had on occasion gabbed with him about such things like, Mexican foods and Pisco Sours.  He was a stunning specimen with shinny light green camouflage shell and eyes that just glared into your soul.  She had a write up in the local paper about her inter species lusts and how inappropriate royalty could really be. 

Eduardo revealed the bad news.  “Broken!” was all he could say.  He then used his charm to insist she stay at his nearby leaf pad until help could carry her back to safety.  A gardens no place for injuries – so many hungry things ready to devour.

Wendy unfortunately had a run in with Jimbo who thought he would do the honourable thing for a mate and was at present untangling herself from the surprise web he dropped just in time for her 86th lap.  “Damn it!” exclaimed Wendy with the disdain of a looser on display.  But this only fired her up and gave her the courage to stop doing laps and practise her training in full. 

Jimbo and Wendy duelled for at least a minute before Wendy’s latest sting sunk in to Jimbo.  Jimbo just lay there twitching as she watched.  Wendy scuttled off for another lap and a check up Antonio.

“Hey Mr.”  Said Wendy to Antonio.

Puffing and working up quite a stunning thirst Antonio simply glared at Wendy saying “what?”.

“Well, I’ve already won the race and going for more victory laps, but I’ve disabled Jimbo so you won’t have any problems on the next bend.”  Wendy said this with quite a victorious tone and a flutter of the eyes.  Was Wendy flirting with Antonio?  Who knows, she was so unpredictable at the best of times, it’s hard to say.  Antonio knew better than to entertain inter specie desires.  Wasps are just for celebration feasts he was thinking to himself.

Antonio was seething now.  How dare that nasty thing hurt a soul.  I think she’s earned some revenge thought Antonio to himself.  He did have a mighty fine line up of fellow ants ready to congratulate him at the end of the race – Winner or not.

On the next bend he ant whistled his entourage to take note of the Whopper Princess Extraordinaire.  There was at least five thousand of them tapping their feet and shaking their heads in support of Antonio.  He was like Ant Royalty.  This is the reason Pappillia liked having him around at times.  He was always invited to her cocktail parties and ambient lounge gathering Sunday afternoons.

Antonio scuttled past his fans and made the home dash for the winning post.  Phew he thought in the back of his mind.  His mates were eagerly eyeing off Wendy on her many laps to follow.  His word was enough to inspire the troops to act.

“We have our places confirmed with Pappillia yet to cross the finishing line.” Said the commentator in his eloquent voice of soothing mellow hypnotic class. 

There was a silence in the crowd and the commentator followed their lead.  It felt like hours but was only a couple of seconds when he was handed the recycled human waste with what looked like writing in blood which read:

“Pappillia is injured and will not be completing the race today.  She is safe and tucked away in my Casa del Hombre waiting collection”

Everyone knew where Casa Del Hombre was, especially the ladies.  That’s Eduardo the gigilo.  Admittedly all homesteads and tree loft apartments had names that reflected the owner.  Pappillia was the star with the longest and weirdest name for a residence....  “cour del la mur, sur le pont, dans la rue, shimmy shimmy shake shake”.  It was frequently called “Paps Cave by the locals but never to her face, she would go on and on telling you how it came to be named the way it is.  And I know you’ve heard the story before, everyone’s made that mistake.

The race was over and medals were presented.

“First Place....  Wendy”

“Second Place....  Antonio” (this inspired a massive roar from his entourage who secured the highest fundraising of all time). 

“Congratulations to the Lady Pappillia for her courageous efforts and thank you ladies and gentlemen for your support today”.  Said that suave sophisticated voice yet again.

The commentator was nowhere to be seen and the mystery of his identity was never known.  Antonio had a hunch it was some overpaid Hollywood star that was cornered into submission by a team of wasps with their usual stand over tactics, but it didn’t really matter.  The money was raised and the race was over.

It was a couple of weeks later they were all back together again seeing Wendy off on a boat set to sail on sunset.  Wendy was sporting a new RAAF outfit with a big cheque folded to an inch of its life on her back.  She looked ridiculous but maintained her “sporty spice” look well.  There were tears and hugs as the boat set off and Wendy drifted out of view to a backdrop of vermillion tainted with blues and streaks of blinding white separating the clouds.  Couldn’t be any more romantic.

The crowds retreated to their residents and thought no more of the event.  Pappillia invited herself to Antonio’s nest and loitered on a rock nearby.  She knew all too well the temperament of ants and how a butterfly is simply a queen ant’s luncheon.  She rabbited on the whole way.  Antonio was just about over the crap and was going to tell her to make like the wind and head in a northern direction when Pappillia blurted out a line that stopped him dead in his tracks.

“it was only when I met her a few months earlier I said there was a colony of Lesbian nun’s in Peru who were looking for an agile sporty attired Wasp to make their new Effigy of their souls.  They’ll have to slice and dice her to get some measurements of course.  I do hope she has enough money to bribe her visa into the country, would hate to think the Gucci Goggles I scammed for her from a hot goods dealer in high class fashions would not see her through the journey of a life time.  Quite an overt character really, pushing her way in and out of people’s lives.  I didn’t like it much when she touched my Chanel scarf a month back.  I mean, I love my things and love that I can be the queen I am while wearing them, just like Paris Hilton.  Did you see her the other day, she was lugging a tiny itsy bitsy burken bag with this clearly mal nourished thing poking its head out the side.  The hole was cut into it.  I mean, she really carries it off nicely don’t you think.  So anyway, I planted the seed and let her imagination take her to new levels.  It’s the way of a Wasp.  It was nice to see her go down a couple of sizes, will make it easier for the nuns to dissect her without dealing with Danish skin layering....  very undesirable don’t you think.  So tomorrow what are you doing?” Said Pappillia.



There was no sound, nothing.  Pappillia looked back and seen Antonio face up petrified a few meters back.  She could only think to herself – “could I put glass on his legs and use it as a coffee table, is that designer or tacky?”